The Smart Native And The Foolish Citizen
A BUSH MAN WAS TAKEN TO A CITY AND ON ARRIVAL AT THE CITY HE BEGAN TO STARE AT THE MARVELOUS CONSTRUCTIONS BY THE CITY PEOPLE!
A MAN WALKED UP TO HIM WHERE HE STOOD, AND ON NOTICING HIS NATIVE CLOTHINGS, THE MAN INSTANTLY KNEW THAT HE WAS A NOVICE, AND THE MAN WALKED UP TO HIM, CLEARED HIS VOICE AND SAID, HEY MR! WHAT BE THY ERRAND HERE? AND HOW MUCH HAVE YOU PAID FOR THE SIGHTINGS? HE ASKED THE BAFFLED NATIVE WHO REPLIED, PAID? I DIDN'T THAT I HAD TO PAY TO LOOK AT BUILDINGS! AND THE CONMAN QUICKLY RETORTED! AHA! YOU HAVE COMMITED A CRIME KNOWN AS LOOKERY BY CREDIT! AND IF YOU FAIL TO PAY, YOU WILL EARN A JAIL TERM OF SIX MONTHS! HE STATED AND THE NATIVE SAID, OH PARDON ME SIR, I HAVE ONLY LOOKED AT THREE BUILDINGS! THE CUNNING CITIZEN SPOKE, SAYING, THAT WOULD BE THREE DOLLARS! A DOLLAR FOR A BUILDING! THE NATIVE PAID THE MONEY AND WALKED OFF SMILING MISCHIEVIOUSLY AS HE TOUGHT TO HIMSELF! FOOLISH CITIZEN, I HAVE LOOKED AT ALMOST ALL THE BUILDINGS IN THIS CITY AND I PAID FOR ONLY THREE BUILDINGS!
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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Related quotes
Cattle Food
AN ELDERLY NATIVE WENT VISITING AT A CITY, AND ON HIS ARRIVAL, HIS HOST QUICKLY TOOK HIM TO AN EXPENSIVE RESTAURANT FOR A WELCOME MEAL!
WHAT WILL BE YOUR ORDER TODAY SIR? A WAITRESS ASKED THE CITIZEN AND HE REPLIED, MY USUAL WOULD BE IN ORDER! AND THE WAITRESS TURNED TO THE ELDERLY NATIVE AND SAID, SIR! WHAT WOULD BE YOUR ORDER? AND THE NATIVE REPLIED, MY USUAL WOULD BE IN ORDER!
THE WAITRESS ASSUMING THAT THEY BOTH WANTED THE CITIZEN'S USUAL PLATE OF VEGETABLE SALAD, WALKED OFF TO GET THE FOOD.
ON HER RETURN WITH THE FOOD, THE CITIZEN IMMEDIATTELY BEGAN TO EAT HIS FOOD, WHILE THE ELDERLY NATIVE SAT FROWNING AT THE PLATE OF SALAD PLACED BEFORE HIM, AFTER A WHILE, HE ASKED HIS HOST, DEAR FRIEND, WAS YOURS WELL COOKED? MINE LOOKS AS IF IT WASN'T EVEN COOKED AT ALL!
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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The Way To The City
A CITIZEN CAME ACROSS A NATIVE AND SAID, WHICH WAY I BEG OF THEE' LEADS TO THE CITY? HE ASKED THE NATIVE WHO REPLIED! OH, EVERY WAY BUT THIS WAY! AND THE SURPRISED CITIZEN ASKED CURIOUSLY, WHAT MEAN YOU BY THAT STATEMENT? AND THE NATIVE REPLIED, WELL, THIS WAY LEADS TO MY NATIVITY, THAT MUCH I AM SURE OF!
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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The Builders Of The City
You never will find their names on a memorial wall
And any memories of them historians never do recall
The builders of the City who lay with the unsung
Many of them came from distant shores and spoke in a foreign tongue
They more than earned every penny that they were ever paid
The builders of the City yet little of their achievements made
Devoted to the family and devoted to the wife
They worked hard so their children could enjoy a better life,
The builders of the City so much to them we owe
Though nothing written about them and of them little we do know
They built the housing estates, City buildings and City Mall
Though nothing of their life achievements is ever made at all
They lay the rail tracks to the City and made the Roadways through the Countryside
Yet in the builders of the City we never do take pride.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Organic buildings are the strength and lightness of the spiders' spinning, buildings qualified by light, bred by native character to environment, married to the ground.
quote by Frank Lloyd Wright
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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São Paulo
São Paulo
The city that I was born in
I never liked you since I was a child
São Paulo
Now that I am grown up I still don't like you either
I don't feel safe being in the streets in São Paulo
To me São Paulo is very ugly in real life
It is only beautiful in the postcards
There is no in between
Either you are rich or poor
There are too many contrasts
São Paulo
A city that never sleeps
São Paulo
I am glad that you don't have snow
One thing that is great in São Paulo is summer, the hot weather
I would go insane if I lived in here forever
For me it is like a prison
Because it is too dangerous to walk on the streets
It is a very depressing city
São Paulo
It is a real cement city
Buildings and more buildings
Hardly any green
It is an old city
450 years old
For me São Paulo
Is like a prison cell
poem by Aldo Kraas
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City Of Beggars
The sky is always blue in the city of beggars
There is not much green in the city of beggars
There are buildings being built so fast in the city of beggars
In every corner that you encounter
The city of beggars are growing so fast
And in the city of beggars lives 30 million people
The air is not that good in the city of beggars
Because of the factories and the cars
The city of beggars never sleep
The noise goes on 24 hours a day
It is not safe to walk in the street of beggars
Because you can get robbed and killed at any time of the night or day
The traffic is chaotic in the city of beggars
Thanks God there is no snow in the city of beggars
poem by Aldo Kraas
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They Raised The Flag For Me
They raised the flag for me
Infront of the city's tallest buildings
So now my job is to keep the flags flying
All the time
Infront of the city's tallest buildings
poem by Aldo Kraas
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New Zealand
An earthquake struck New Zealand's city of Christchurch on Tuesday
Burying vehicles under debris and collapsing buildings into the streets.
Police announced a curfew and city was shut down on Wednesday,
Rescuers scrambled to reach beneath the rubble the residents.
The quake devastating the spire of the Cathedraland is a real tale.
The buildings had collapsed and the people were trapped inside.
All around the city, this powerful earthquake strangely bent some rails, Moreover, it toppled the tall buildings and seventy five people died.
The earthquake combination of distance and depth was so deadly,
Streets were strewn with concrete and people were stuck in towers.
Firefighters climbed ladders to pluck people from roofs to safety.
Buildings have gone because aftershocks hit the city within two hours.
Pre-World War buildings were damaged by the quake on September,
People wandered through streets strewn with debris and concrete.
The further damage was caused by a strong aftershock in December.
Now there is a real carnage with bodies littering the streets..
The women went into premature labor and the city was in agony.
The airport was shut down, in ruins the people began to groan,
Every child has been walking home trying to find the lost family.
The city were suffering cuts to the water supply and the phone.
A thirty million tone block of ice sheared off a glacier of New Zealand
After the earthquake had devastated the city groping it into Dark.
The iceberg crashed into a lake had rocked the South Island
Ripping off the Tasman Glacier at Aoraki Mount Cook National Park.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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New York Poems: Reaction
There’s so much movement,
but its all confusion I say
There’s height but where's the depth,
Is it wearing a mask?
It seems as if I’m here to find it,
I walked onto the street and felt the need...
not need..
The want!
To write down the words of this city,
It called out that it could express itself.
Sandburg found the positive of Chicago
But there is more to positive then,
Efficiency and grandeur
The buildings,
Physicals, aesthetic and their gimmicks
The city has a soul as a whole
H-O-L-E
NYC isn’t empty!
What is left in these hearts?
There is no room for a heart,
yet it's relaxed
Is no one connected?
Is no one complete?
Is no one complacent?
What does that word mean?
The city... what is it?
It is a fishbowl,
To say the least.
poem by Chris Osterbrock
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The girl from Cebu City
I know a girl from Cebu City
I have never met her but I know of her
through her lover… a much older man
who lives in my city.
She is much younger
very beautiful… a bit like a child
He has arranged for her to come for an
extended visit
He is worried that people might think
he has bought and paid for her, lest
her feelings be hurt
I say she is too young to understand…
He says he will throw money at the problem
and take her here and there, spoil her,
buy her things…
only to take her mind off things, of course…
I think it is ironic that this girl will go back
to Cebu City with more possessions
thinking herself richer for the experience –
not having been bought and paid for, of course…
and that this man from my city will be
all the poorer for his judgment….
for buying the paper queen
a heart of stone.
poem by Yuri Duraan
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The Red Ants...
The red ants are not red...
They are blacks hired
To mow down their own
Out of sinkholes
Onto pavements
The red ants are not ants...
They are human beings reduced
To machines that bulldoze
Those whose plight they share
For a meal
Note: In the City of Johannesburg, the poor occupying the innercity's delapidated buildings (so-called sinkholes) are forcefully evicted by armies of men in red overalls (popularly known as the red ants) , clearing the buildings as part of the inner city regeneration programme...
poem by Moses Mtileni
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Tale of Three Cities
New York blasted London blasted
Singapore -
Ripped off each other's metaphoric balls,
Crumbling walls.
Priapic city monoliths -
Blue-sky scraping bastards -
Shout about their height (but really length) .
V8 arseholes didn't care -
Pumping shit into the air,
So long as they were always there to
Fart aloud a smoggy cloud,
Laughing at the weak asthmatic,
Humoured that it seems traumatic.
Watch the greedy cities oozing
Chair-bound fat committees, though they
Look a bunch of titties as they
Waffle on about the pound.
Ever thought to look around and see
That they were dead?
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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City Of Music
Music is like a city
The genres are the suburbs
The bands, the streets
The albums, the buildings
And the songs, the apartments
The streets get inspiration from other streets
They duplicate then alter them slightly.
The city is very busy and there are always
People driving through looking and listening
The city is growing every day.
The suburbs larger and larger
And some join together.
The streets longer and longer
And some old and tattered.
The building will always stay the same
But they will always be new.
The city will always keep growing
As the music goes on.
poem by by unknown author
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The Big City Type
I woke up in a big city apartment
Rode to a big city job
On a big city subway
With hip, big city people
Worked at a big city job
In a big city skyscraper
Stood in a big city line
For lunch, heard big city jazz
On a big city radio station
It was like a big city scene
In a big budget movie
When I realized I had become
The big city type
I always wanted to be
Yet I was still me
poem by Adam Artois
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It's a weird city because the uglier the weather, the more beautiful the city. And the uglier the buildings, the more coherent the city.
quote by Rem Koolhaas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sky High
The buildings
In my city
Are being built
In every corner you walk
That is because
The population of my city is growing
Very fast each year
poem by Aldo Kraas
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City Streets
The gaudy glow of neon lights
dispels the darkness of the nights
on city streets.
They pop and fizzle noisily
creating a cacophony
on city streets.
The sober folks walk warily
and drunks stagger uncaringly
on city streets.
The ladies of the night parade
for there is money to be made
on city streets.
Drug dealers ready to retreat
if they should hear a coppers feet
on city streets.
The night shift workers wend their way
towards their work to start their day
on city streets.
The noisy revellers thin out
as one by one the signs go out
on city streets.
The gradually noises abate
and ghostly shadow congregate
on city streets.
For some few hours peace will reign
before the noise will start again
on city streets.
The early morning traffic sounds
start with the milkmen on their rounds
on city streets.
This builds up to an angry roar
as cars and lorries inward pour
on city streets
then when at last rush hour has passed
noise levels will subside at last
on city streets
I thank the lord that I am free
to leave this noise far behind me
on city streets.
I walked my beat the whole night
through exactly as I’m paid to do
on city streets.
I choose to live outside the town
where constant noise won’t get me down
on city streets.
My village is a quiet place
A haven where I need not face
the noisy streets.
8-Jun-07
poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Angel Sent to Me
I met an angel when looking for a car
I didn't know it at the time
I just saw him from afar
but when he turned up at all the spots
that I was looking through
something made me walk right up and
say how do you do.
He said he was looking for a car
that we'd both seen all we could
He said the places we were in
had nothing any good
so I did something I've never done
I offered him a ride
to the city and bigger yards
where cars stood side by side
We found a yard with a perfect car
just right for my angel man
I found one too but had no money
and asked for a payment plan
The dealer smiled sleazily
smut was on his mind
He looked at me and winked his eye
and said 'your friend is kind'
He handed me the bunch of keys
to my chosen little car
I said hey I just can't pay
he said 'well here you are'
The man who had just driven with me
had left the place before
The dealer said he'd paid for my car
and there was nothing more
I signed the papers and drove away
in my new expensive gift
I've never seen the man again
who paid me for a lift
Now until this day I wonder,
was he really sent to me
was he an angel from above
poem by Janice M Pickett
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Spirit Seeker
He walked the streets and found his way
between tall buildings gray.
He felt closed in by hardened cement
and knew he couldn't stay.
He needed to smell the salty air
and feel the ocean's spray.
He rubbed his hands to warm them
and he started to pray.
Not for money, not for health
just for the smell of the sea.
For to be so far from the waves and brine
was not his destiny.
And so he walked the miles in front of him
until he felt wet sand.
He sat with his feet being lapped on
and the grains of sand in his hand.
He was at peace and cried like a child
that's found his favorite toy.
And never again would he need tall buildings
for they would only destroy
his spirit.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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These City Walls
There's no doubt this city's in abundance
There's beauty alright, too much to see sometimes
The summer varnishes stone buildings like they were a canvas
The rivers reflect the scenes, doubling the impact
And the people here are smart and easy
No trouble, no smashing glass or arses out of car windows
Of course; they keep the best stuff locked away
If you weren't born to money or vast ambition
Then you've not earned the right to see some joys
Then you're not blessed enough to come inside the walls
These city walls, secrets within arms-reach
Exploding summer gardens, ponds, boats, buildings
Dining halls, drawing rooms, ancient chapples
Wrapped a hundred walls around it all
Reserved for the elite, for the wealthy and the 'wise'
Still this city holds me in her talons tight
Still this place cushions me in its soft paw
Strips a few garments here and there
To keep me aware of all the beauty bubbling under
But now my times are tainted
Now too many feelings have boiled away
When I go to other cities
They fire my imagination
They inspire me with their possibility
Oh, the excitement of not knowing
Where this street will take me
Oh, the happiness in lost moments
Just swimming through confusion
It's time to go beyond these city walls
It's time to move on
From these city walls...
(2009)
poem by B. Alexander
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